


An abyss for my heart to eclipse

by Missy_dee811



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Child Neglect, Depression, F/M, Flashbacks, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Maria Stark's A+ Parenting, Not Canon Compliant, Past Relationship(s), Post-Coital, References to Depression, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-02-14 14:39:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13009929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy_dee811/pseuds/Missy_dee811
Summary: Not everyone has a soulmate. They're not for everyone. Those that do, receive their marks at the onset of puberty. There are, however, exceptions to this rule.[Written for Stony Trumps Hate 2017.]





	1. December

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of two fics I'm writing for Stony Trumps Hate.
> 
> Or rather, this is the soulmates AU I never thought I'd write, featuring such favorites: tattoos, mutual pining, and spontaneous telepathy.

He was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. He could make out the places where the paint had been painted over and over. It wasn’t smooth, not that he expected it to be, even still, a small part of him did. No one gave much mind to the ceiling, he knew. If it wasn’t perfect no one would notice. These weren’t the kinds of things people mulled over. But then, people weren’t drumming their fingers along their sternum in the middle of the night as the others lay still, lost in their minds, hoping to succumb to sleep and the dreamland that awaits behind closed eyes.

Tony wasn’t nearly as lucky.

He had always had trouble sleeping.

His eyes scanned the room again. He knew no one would come in: he wasn’t making any noise, and everyone else was sleep, but he couldn’t stop himself. He kept looking over, eyeing the doorknob, waiting for someone to turn it from the other side. Waiting for someone to drag him down and… What would they do?

Did it even matter?

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and forced himself to breath smoothly. Evenly. He turned his attention to the ceiling once again. The doorknob, and the mysterious person behind it, a dormant thought at this moment.

No one gave much mind to what was above them. He never caught anyone else looking at the ceiling fans or the ceiling tiles. He knew, it was something he did to occupy his time. Howard called everything he did a distraction. Perhaps they were. Distractions from him, that is.

He noticed, in the classrooms too, that the plaster wasn’t the same white as the paint they used to conceal it. What was it about concealing things that meant it couldn’t be the exact same, but rather, a poor substitute? Suitable only if you weren’t scrutinizing it.

His mother would dab some under her eyes and spread it across. She’d smile that halfhearted smile he’d come to associate with the waning moon and the coming winter. She’d say she was doing her makeup, getting ready for a night of hosting, or some such activity. Tony – quietly, for he wasn’t brave enough to voice such concerns – wondered why his mother went along with these things, why she didn’t put her foot down and say, _Howard, no. Not today. Not tonight. I’m too tired_.

 _You’re always tired, Maria_.

She’d lower her eyes and that was that.

He’d quietly observed this in all his classrooms, in the lunch room, and the study halls. It didn’t bother him – the imperfections – but it gave him something to do. Some way to ground him when his thoughts wandered off, as they so often did.

His teacher called him a dreamer. Perhaps he wouldn’t object to such a title if he didn’t know better. He sighed. _My father would hate that, not that he didn’t already hate me_ , his mind supplied at the last possible moment. It filled him with sorrow.

He wished he could fly through the clouds. He closed his eyes and let his mind fill with the images of the stars far above his head. He knew what the skies above them in December would look like. He had trained his eyes.

 _I can dream all I want in the clouds. Howard can’t touch me there_.

 _My son, his head’s always in the clouds_. Howard would say to his business partners and they would snicker into their glasses. It was always one or two fingers of whisky. He’d seen his father pour enough shots in his life to know better. Every now and then, Tony would look at them, drinking their bourbon or scotch and wonder what it would taste like. If the amber liquid was as sweet as he thought it was. Once or twice, he thought of sneaking a sip, but the thought of being found kept him on his toes.

He knew the other boys would tease him for being afraid. They teased him for other reasons too. They were older than him, more experienced. He sighed, dreamily. Some days he wished he weren’t such a dreamer.

 _Old fashioned_ , Howard used to call it. He didn’t know what he meant by that. The drinking habits of adults intrigued him.

It was late into the night, soon to be early morning, but he couldn’t sleep. There was too much excitement drumming through his veins to allow him slumber. He should have other reasons for being excited, he knew. The term was coming to an end and he’d be home soon. The other kids seemed to revel in this reprieve but he wasn’t one of those.

He knew going back home – if he could even call it that – would be anything but quiet. Oh sure, the house would be empty. His father always seemed to have some important business in Washington D.C. or Chicago or some other city. He couldn’t be bothered. His son was nothing more than a nuisance. He knew it wasn’t like that for the other boys. They’d talk about seeing their relatives – the grandparents that spoiled them, the aunts that brought back wondrous gifts, the uncles who would pull them aside and offer them a taste of whatever drink they favored.

He didn’t have those connections. Sure, he’d get to see Jarvis again, whom he always missed, but these days, his mother was more and more closed-off. He knew it wasn’t her fault. He’d never lay the blame on her but she barely got out of bed and when she did she walked around the house, a shadow of her former self.

He didn’t know how to help her.

He didn’t know if he could.

Jarvis would just watch his expression change when she came into the room, her eyes bloodshot. Sometimes, he’d find her mixing a drink, when she thought she wasn’t being watched.

 _Oh, Anthony. You shouldn’t be here,_ she’d say, carefully taking a sip. He’d watch her trembling fingers and lament the days they used to play piano. She didn’t do much of that anymore. No since she’d gotten that faraway look in her eye.

He didn’t know what a drink could offer that made his parents crave it. An addiction, they’d call it. He wished he didn’t lay awake wondering what a drop would taste like. Wondering if vodka was a magical cure for a malady he couldn’t really explain. _Depression_. Yes, he’d read about it. Had done his investigation.

_Oh yeah, all mothers drink, Tony._

_Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with her._

_She’s just sad, so what?_

_She just needs to get the edge off. Bet she downs all the wine she can find!_

He thought of the stars high above them. He thought about flying across the sky like a high-speed jet. Would that take the edge off? Would looking out across the horizon count? Would it awaken in him _something_?

That night, he fell asleep dreaming of space flight. Launching himself in a rocket, escaping earth’s gravity. Mach 33.

He could be an astronaut.

 _Dreamer_ , his teacher had called him. Fondly, in that way his mother once used to say his name, the way his father never did. It made him smile.

He wondered, not for the first time, if his soulmate would ever think of him in that way. If his name would fall off their lips in that affectionate way he’d come to associate with love. He desperately wished, together, they could escape. Colonize Mars.

He wondered if they would care about his imperfections. Sometimes, he wondered if they would tether him to earth. If they would, instead, ground him. _That head of yours, is always in the clouds,_ his mother would say. She meant it as both a compliment and a warning. Perhaps, his soulmate was that kind of person. The kind of person who knew better than to let a balloon go, watch it float away. Perhaps, they were an anchor.

Perhaps – and this thought, he kept closest to him, only letting it out like this, when all else was quiet – they were _home_.

He liked that very much.

_Home._

_I want someone to give me a home._


	2. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Por encontrar un beso tuyo
> 
> Por encontrar un beso tuyo,  
> ¿qué daría yo?  
> ¡Un beso errante de tu boca  
> muerta para el amor!
> 
> (Minerva de sombra,  
> come mi boca.)
> 
> Por contemplar tus ojos negros,  
> ¿qué daría yo?  
> ¡Auroras de carbunclos irisados  
> abiertas frente a Dios!
> 
> (Las estrellas los cegaron  
> una mañana de mayo.)
> 
> Y por besar tus muslos castos  
> ¿qué daría yo?
> 
> (Cristal de rosa primitiva,  
> sedimento de sol.)
> 
> Federico García Lorca

Not for the first time, he found himself staring at the ceiling. This one was as wide as it was tall. Expansive.

He crossed his arms beneath his head, and nestled into the pillow. Though comfortable, he knew he couldn’t sleep. Instinctively, he searched his thoughts, meandering through memories as would a river through a valley, until he found something acceptable.

Surely, he could just replay the last hour in his mind, but that wouldn’t satisfy him. Not now. Not so soon after.

Unable to find his thoughts sufficiently distracting, he turned to his companion.

Beside him, she slept peacefully. Lying on her side, he could see the way her long waves framed her face, lining her shoulders, and trailing down her back. His thoughts were overrun with the image, still so fresh, of her on her stomach, moaning as he kissed her back.

Running his hands along her arms, he whispered for her to lie perfectly still as he pushed her hair aside. He felt her throaty moan before he heard her as he nuzzled the nape of her neck.

 _I love you_ , he thought, but kept the thought to himself. It was much too soon.

He waited until she gave her approval, which came in the form of a plea for him to get going. He smiled before ghosting a breath across her skin. He kissed every inch of her, from her shoulders, down and across her back, biting into her hip, startling her into helpless moans.

Her felt her quiver and couldn’t help but smile.

When he bit into her flesh, she groaned. First, in pain, but soon, in pleasure. He loved hearing the sounds she made, loved being the one to make her react.

As she lay lost in her dreams, he could see the way her chest, and her ample breasts, rose and fell with each breath. It was serene, watching her utterly at peace.

He had turned her over, and wrapping her legs around his hips, she caught his bottom lip, pulling him closer. “Kiss me,” she said. Both a command and a suggestion.

Never one to refuse her, he obliged. He cupped her face and kissed her. Their foreheads touched and he felt a surge of affection for her. For the second time that night, he thought to himself, _I love her. I love this sublime woman_.

She dug her heels into the small of his back. “What are you waiting for,” she asked, sliding her hands down his chest. He couldn’t resist her, especially not like this.

In the waking hours, she was a raging storm of feeling, dizzying in her intensity, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

She was fearless and reckless and he loved her for it.

She’d dragged him across a crowded dance floor, making sure not to drop or spill her drink. He watched the way her long hair moved as she moved. With their fingers intertwined, she led him, weaving through groups of young women dancing, and the men who ogled them from afar, too afraid of rejection to try their hand.

When they finally made it to the back to the club, away from the crowds, where the music wasn’t as loud, she pushed the drink into his hands. He eyed her curiously and she just smiled. “Bottoms up,” she said as she downed the remainder of hers, though, at this point, there was more ice than anything else. She kept her eye on him and leaning in, said, “Just a little something to get your blood flowing.”

Slightly inebriated, he wondered if this is how it would always be. He wondered if he’d always be willing to do as she pleased. Though he knew it should scare him, the thought of satisfying her, even with this little thing, made him feel warm. Sure, it was probably the drink, but he suspected it was more than that.

He was euphoric.

They were young and in love, it didn’t matter that they weren’t soulmates. It didn’t matter than he had never gotten his mark. He could still have someone to ground him, someone to fly with him, on those days when he wished to soar through the sky.


	3. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two chapters were flashbacks, but this isn't a flashback. This is where the story starts.

He heard her coming down the stairs. Most of the time, he flooded the workshop with the sounds of his favorite guitar riffs, but not today. Today, he had decided to work in silence. He did that sometimes, when the noise inside his head was more than enough of a distraction.

JARVIS kept him company. As he did today, he'd let him know if Pepper or Rhodey were on their way down. Rhodey didn't find the silence disconcerting. He'd known him far longer, had a better grasp of his moods and their ranges. 

Not to say that Pepper didn't, but she found total silence to be more off-putting than the heavy metal he favored. She had confessed as much to him one day, not long after he had gotten back.

_I_ _t feels as if I'm intruding on your alone time._

_Y_ _ou're never intruding, Pep. You have_ _unhindered, unlimited_ _access to the lab. You can come and go as you please._

_I_ _know. I do, Tony. I'm very grateful for that, but it doesn't change the facts. I feel as if I'm in the way of some breakthrough. Don’t tell me to call beforehand, you never answer. I just... I just know when it's not worth bothering you, that's all. And if I see you're working on something in silence, I leave you to it._

_D_ _oes that happen a lot?_

_I_ _t does, now._

She didn't knock, just punched in her code, and walked in. The sound of her footsteps, the only sound in the room. Tony had been soldering a piece of metal, a part of one of the gauntlets, when she had entered. He paused, putting down his tools, and turned to face her. "Ms. Potts."

"Good morning, Tony. I just came down to let you know Agent Coulson is still awaiting a call back."

"Agent Coulson," repeated Tony, slightly unsure.

"Yes, he was the gentleman that had been present at the press conference. The one where you announced to the world that you were Iron Man. He had been in the room with us."

"Yeah, I remember him. He was the one with the index cards," said Tony. Pepper smiled. She was glad he remembered. 

"He was also at the Gala."

"Oh, I don't remember seeing him at the Gala. I must've missed him." 

"It's fine, Pepper. I only spoke to him for a bit. I was...distracted. There was a lot happening that night."

He looked at Pepper, slightly uncomfortable. They had danced, he had complimented her, and they had walked off to have a talk on the rooftop. It had gone well, until he had left, seemingly to fetch them drinks, and hadn't returned.

He hadn't intended to leave her there. Christine had stopped him, asked him questions. Asked him about his weapons, asked him about Gulmira.  _Gulmira_. It was the first he had heard of the city since Yinsen had mentioned it in the cave, before he gave his life. 

He couldn't stay. He had to go. 

Those were his weapons, his designs, and they were targeting the wrong people. They were targeting the people who hadn't done anything wrong. They were just trying to live their lives in the middle of a warzone. 

It was the wrong place, the wrong time. He knew a little about that. It was why he was an orphan. It was why he had an artificial heart.

He had intended to apologize to Pepper, had intended to right his wrongs. He shouldn't have left her there. It wasn't her fault. She didn't know. She couldn't have known why he stood her up. 

Pepper looked at her toes, she could see that her nail polish was chipping and admonished herself for wearing open-toed shoes. Not that it mattered, but it bothered her. 

"He's still waiting for you to call him back, Tony. It's been a few days. You really shouldn't leave him waiting."

 _I'm not your soulmate_ , she had said.

He knew. He had known. It was obvious, in retrospect. He had no marks. Surely, she must've had one, must've been hiding it. She was a private person, after all. Her life didn't revolve around him, for as much as a part of him wanted that to be true. She was her own person, with her own dreams and goals, and he loved that. He loved that about her. Loved the confidence with which she spoke even when she was afraid or uncertain. It took a certain amount of courage to speak when in doubt, to shed that fear.

_I can't watch you kill yourself._

_I need to do this, Pepper._

"Fine, I'll call him." He turned back to his work and looked back at the gauntlet assembled before him. He should say something else, should assuage her fears, her doubts. Whatever it was that was nagging her. He could tell there was something she wished to say but just couldn't.  _Something_.

They spoke at the same time.

"I'm going on a date this weekend. I won't be available."

"I really should apologize for that night. On the rooftop."

They both paused, having said their piece, and having had just enough time to hear the other. Tony cleared his throat and, not daring to look at her, said as evenly as he could. "That's...great."

He could feel her eyes on him. He kept looking at the gauntlets, berating himself for hastily soldering the two pieces together.

He had been distracted. 

He started again. "That's great, Pep. Really. I hope you have fun. With your date. I hope you have a fun date."

She smiled shyly. He looked up just as she cast her eyes down. She took a deep breath. 

"It should be fun. She seems...interesting."

Tony smiled, a true smile this time. He thought back to his girlfriend in college. She had been interesting. The granddaughter of a wealthy Japanese businessman. She had convinced her father and grandfather to let her study in the US. They had met while he was in graduate school, but he was so much younger than the other fellows. 

He spent his time with the undergrads.

She had been fun-loving, adventurous. Their relationship had had its ups and downs, as do all relationships. He thought about her sometimes. Hoped she was happy with the life she had chosen for herself. He couldn't blame her. They knew, from the beginning, it wasn't meant to be. She wasn't his soulmate and he wasn't hers. But it was fun.

He hoped Pepper had better luck. 

She saw herself out, much as she had let herself in, and he promised he'd call the Agent, but not now. Not while his mind was racing, and his thoughts were soaring.

Nothing would ever come close to matching the sensation he felt when he flew through the clouds. It was always such a joy, such a rush.  

"Welcome home, Sir," said JARVIS as Tony walked into the living room. It was quiet. Too quiet. Tony felt restless. It was late, but that wasn't unusual. He kept odd hours.

It was then he spotted him. The man in the shadows. He was standing behind the sofa, overlooking the ocean. Tony spent a lot of time overlooking the ocean. The waves brought him a sense of calm. The sound of the waves crashing below the mansion was soothing in its own way. It was difficult to explain, but he loved it nonetheless.

"I am Iron Man," said the man in the shadows. 

He was quoting Tony's earlier words to the world's press. It hadn't been deliberate, but he had seen the need for it, and he took the risk. The world needed to know he had changed. The world needed to know he was different. Beyond that though, the world needed to know he meant what he said. 

He was Iron Man. Everything he did would be tied to that identity. Everything he ever wanted to be, Iron Man could be those things.

The man had started to move forward, to move towards Tony, but Tony stayed put. "Think you're the only superhero in the world," said the man in shadows as he walked.

Tony smirked. He knew he couldn't be the only one. Surely, there must be others.

"Mr. Stark, you've become part of a bigger universe, you just don't know it yet," said the man in the shadows. 

"Who the hell are you," asked Tony. He was slightly worried now. Experience had taught him to be wary of those who would show up to his home announced in the night. 

It hadn't ended well the last time. 

The man in the shadows moved closer. He answered simply. "Nick Fury. Director of SHIELD." 

He said it as if his name and title informed Tony of his motivations; the reasons why he had come to see Tony at this time of the night, as opposed to waiting for morning. They didn't. Tony had more questions now than he did seconds ago. 

 _He should've called that Agent_ , he thought. He had promised Pepper, but then... Other things had taken precedence.

He should've asked her how her date went with that woman... Natalia. He should've asked her about Natalia. 

_W_ _ho was she?_

When Tony didn't respond, Fury moved closer. When he came into the light, Tony could see there was an eyepatch covering his left eye. It piqued his curiosity, but having had his body modified without his consent, he wasn't eager to ask any questions. 

If it was something he needed to know, he'd learn the truth eventually. 

Besides, it wouldn't be wise to ask such personal questions on a first date. Most people considered that intrusive.   

"I'm here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative. But more than that, I'm here to ask you to accompany me to Canada. We've...uncovered something. And it may be of interest to you."

Tony tilted his head and thought it through for a moment before responding. "Why do you need me to go?"

"Oh, you'd want to go. Once I tell you what – or should I say who – we found." Fury kept his gaze on Tony.

"Well," said Tony, putting his hands in his pocket, "who did you find?"

"Captain America," said Fury, keeping his tone neutral. 

"When do we leave," asked Tony, trying to keep his enthusiasm to a minimum. 

"As soon as you're ready. I have a team waiting," replied Fury, bypassing Tony as he walked to the door. "You'll have to dress warmly. We'll be going to the Arctic."

"How do you know I'm going to follow."

"I don't," said Fury, closing the door behind him.

_Damn it, I'm going to go to the Arctic._

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](http://viudanegraaa.tumblr.com/).


End file.
